


Tug of Love

by left_to_write



Series: Paradise is Forever [4]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/left_to_write/pseuds/left_to_write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after his trip to London to hand over prisoner, Vicky Woodward, Richard is sent back on another mission. Will he return again to those who love him on Saint Marie?<br/> INCLUDES RE-WRITTEN CHAPTER 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is set a year after Episode 8 of Series 2. As per the other stories in this 'Paradise is Forever' series, there is no Series 3.
> 
> I had so enjoyed writing the piece where I imagined different potential romantic endings for several of the TV Episodes, that I wondered if I could take some of the most obvious ones (from the canon) and imagine the storyline(s) one year on now, instead.

 

Camille felt she was experiencing deja vu: the same old Malcolm Powell murder case, which had already been solved by Richard and the team a whole year ago, and suddenly he was being told that he had to go back to London again for a few days because the defendant was no longer co-operating. What if this time he actually didn't come back?

This year, though, their relationship had begun to move on a bit, and she believed they had been close to admitting they had feelings for one another - feelings that transcended the purely professional.

She thought back to the conversation they'd had then as, once more, he was packing for another trip to grey and drizzly England.

"Do you really have to go, Richard?" She looked at him wistfully.

He crooked his forefinger gently under her chin. "I'm afraid so, Camille. Commissioner's orders. Vicky Woodward's lawyer has apparently persuaded her to change her plea to 'not guilty' after all, and I have to go back to, at the very least, give a sworn affidavit. Hopefully, I won't actually have to testify at her trial, because that could take weeks, but I suppose it could come to that."

Camille thought she was going to faint. _Richard so far away for weeks! And in his beloved London. Now he'll never come back, will he??_

"And will you come back?" She hated what she felt was her emotional weakness in asking him, but she couldn't help herself.

He stared at her and frowned. "You asked me that last time, remember?"

She looked at him with a mixture of sadness, hurt and anger. How could he be so cold? "Yes, I do remember, Richard."

Seeing the expression on her face, he relented. "And what happened then?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I _did_ come back, didn't I, just like I'd said I would?" he replied, trying not to sound exasperated. _Honestly, women! Why do they have to be so irrational?_

Camille swallowed hard. _Why doesn't he understand how hard this is for me? He's alright; he's going back 'home' while I'll be here - already at home. And wondering if I'll ever see him again._

"Yeah, ranting and raving all the way, especially about your stupid luggage." She was beginning to sound distinctly sullen now.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, excuse me, but quite frankly, Camille, it does happen to be bloody inconvenient when your luggage keeps getting lost in transit, you know. _You_ try going around with not much to wear," he grumbled.

Great, now they were both sounding petulant.

She changed tack a little, realising that they were close to ruining what little time they had left with this latest little spat.

"Well, at least you have more than one hour's notice this time. What time do you leave tomorrow morning?" she asked.

"Oh, fairly early, I'm afraid," he replied, relieved that she no longer seemed to be arguing with him. "They're sending a taxi to pick me up about 7:00; this time I have to change planes in San Juan. The flight leaves around 12:30. I won't get in till the early hours the following morning, what with the time difference and all."

Camille took a very deep breath _. What the hell; if I'm not going to see him again, it's worth the risk._

"Is there any chance I could stay with you here tonight, Richard?"

Richard looked as if his face was going to fall off.

_"What?!?"_

She shrugged her shoulders and looked at the floor.

"Camille... "

"Yeah, sorry; forget it," she said. _Just please don't humiliate me._

His features relaxed and softened a bit. _If only she knew how tempting that is..._

Stepping in more closely, he looked at her intently. Inhaling deeply, he explained, "Look, it's not that I don't... um... you know. It's not that I wouldn't like that but... we... can't." His face was beginning to redden a bit.

Keeping eye contact with him, she challenged his assertion. "Because we work together, or because you don't have feelings for me... or because you know you might not come back and, being an honourable English gentleman, you wouldn't want to lead me up the garden path?" The tinge of sarcasm in her voice was not lost on Richard.

He took another deep breath. "How many times do I have to tell you, Camille?? _I am coming back!!_ Why are you acting like there's some dastardly plan to trick you into thinking I'll be back when, all along, I'm actually about to do a runner?!

"And thank you for assuming I'm a devious little shit. I can't tell you how good that makes me feel. Now if you don't mind, I have some packing to finish. It's an early start tomorrow and I was hoping to get it finished tonight, apart from last minute things."

Richard's apparent harshness was an attempt to hide his own wounded feelings behind a cold and matter-of-fact demeanour. He hated being misunderstood, but he didn't yet have the emotional resources to express himself better, or to clear up misunderstandings that arose from his innate reserve and lack of confidence with the opposite sex.

Part of Camille understood this, but part of her was nevertheless hurt and frustrated that even after all this time, he still didn't seem to trust her enough to open up to her. After all, she had dropped enough hints over the months and years, and there had been moments of relative closeness that gave her hope for a future blossoming. But to date, nothing momentous had happened.

_I'm damned if I'm going to let him get away with sloping off to the other side of the world without having it out, once and for all._

Something inside her snapped and she made up her mind to force the issue. Lost luggage would be the least of his problems.

Pulling herself up to her full height, and looking him squarely in the eye, she announced that she was staying with him that night, full stop. Not to coerce or seduce him, but simply to spend time with him before his dreaded departure.

 

Richard studied Camille in the half-light, shook his head and smiled. "How did I ever let you talk me into this?"

She smiled back at him. "You didn't; I insisted. I wasn't going to let you leave - I mean, travel - to London and not spend time with me before you went. Special, alone time."

He looked at her again and wondered how on earth he was going to be able to tear himself away from this sassy, and utterly beguiling, (half) French beauty.

"I never really stood a chance, did I?"

"Are you saying I made you do anything against your will?" she asked teasingly.

"I didn't 'do' anything, Camille," he reminded her.

"Oh, but you did. You let me stay after all; you allowed yourself a new experience; and you opened up a bit, too. Well, just a little."

"Did I have a choice in the matter?"

"Technically yes, but... "

"Exactly. Now come on, we'd better get some sleep - or at least _I'd_ better get some sleep - or I'll be useless tomorrow," he chuckled.

"Richard?"

"Yes, Camille?"

"When you get back from London, can we do this again?"

Richard spluttered with amusement and incredulity. "If we do this again, Camille, I'm not sure the level of... ahem... restraint... would be the same," he answered.

She shot him an impish little grin. "Well, we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it, won't we? Meantime, you'll have a reason to return, I hope."

                                                 ________________________________________________________________________ 

                               

 "Can I get you a drink, sir?" Richard looked up at the flight attendant who had just spoken. His head was aching with fatigue and all he wanted was to be able to get some sleep.

"Oh, um... I think I'll just have tea, please. Milk and one sugar, thanks."

"Certainly, sir, and please let us know if there's anything else we can get you."

"Right, thank you." The tea was mediocre, even in Business Class (courtesy of SOCA?), and Richard had no doubt that the meal wouldn't be any better. He hated airline food almost as much as he hated seafood with eyes, but it was to be a long flight and he knew he wouldn't be eating in London until the following day.

After finishing his tea, he pushed his seat into the reclining position and pondered the night he had just spent with Camille - snuggled up in a blanket on the beach, for goodness' sake. And all that sand everywhere, he shuddered.

_Oh, the things we do for love._

That last word terrified him, and jolted him out of his reverie. He began scouring his brain for evidence that it wasn't true. Surely he didn't... _love_... Camille?!? Of course, he was fond of her, and those years he had been 'stuck' on Saint Marie had found him quite a different man than when he first arrived there. But surely they were just good friends and colleagues? And he had really only been humouring her by sleeping under the stars with her last night - because she was sad that he was going to London again, and needed some comfort and reassurance.

Camille had said he was less stuffy and pompous than he used to be, and he realised that if that were true, it was probably down to her.

He hadn't even minded too much when she'd giggled at the sight of him trying to flick the sand out of his hair.

"Maybe you should rinse it in the sea, Richard."

"Then it will just get full of salt."

"The sea is very clean here, not like in Europe."

"That's not what I said."

"Suit yourself."

Then there had been the questions. _Oh, the endless questions._

"Have you ever done this before, Richard?"

"What, slept on a beach? No, I haven't."

"What about sleeping anywhere outdoors?"

"When I was a boy scout; and on school camping trips, occasionally."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Not particularly."

"Have you ever done it with a woman?"

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Have you ever gone camping, or slept outdoors, with a woman?"

"Camille, don't you ever get tired of asking questions?"

"No."

"I thought not. Do you think you'll ever get tired of asking _me_ questions?"

"I doubt it."

"I was afraid of that."

"What else are you afraid of, Richard?"

"I beg your pardon??"

"You say that a lot, don't you?"

"You make me say it, Camille."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. You pry and interrogate and try to wheedle every last bit of personal information out of me."

"Maybe that's because I care, Richard."

"Or maybe it's because you're nosy."

"That, too."

"I have a feeling this is going to be a long night."

"I hope so."

"Well, I think it's too cold on the sand to stay here all night."

"You used to say it was too hot here."

"Well, I wasn't referring to staying out all night on the sand then, was I?"

"Okay, so why don't we move indoors?"

"And then you'll go home?"

"If you order me to... Sir."

"Stop doing that, Camille."

"Doing what?"

"That emotional blackmail thing. You know, like a dog looking all forlorn when you tell it to leave you alone, and you end up feeling so guilty that you relent."

"So, now I'm a dog?"

"Good God, Camille, it's three o'clock in the morning and I've got to be up in - oh, no - less than four hours, so I can get the taxi to the airport, to catch the plane to San Juan, and then catch the plane to the UK. So, can you please stop doing my head in??"

"Alright, if you answer the question."

"Which one?!"

"Do I have to go home now?"

"Oh, dear God... I suppose not."

"Thank you. I didn't really want to."

"Obviously."

"And I wish you didn't have to go back to London, even for just a while."

"That's not what you said when you first met me."

"Well, you don't lock me up in police cells with goats any more."

"Come on, I need to go indoors now. Enough of this boy scout stuff."

 

"Richard, you only have one bed."

"Oh, well observed, detective. Have you only just noticed that?"

"Actually, no."

"I thought not. Now, I am going to be a true gentleman because: a) I was brought up to be a well-behaved Englishman; b) you're my Sergeant, and I refuse to take advantage of you; and c) I'm too bloody knackered to misbehave, anyway. So, on that premise, would you like to share the bed? Otherwise, you'll have to make your own arrangements, because I really need to get some sleep, Camille."

"Okay. Have you set your alarm?"

"Yes, thank you. Oh look, only three hours until it goes off."

"Goodnight, Richard."

"Goodnight, Camille."

 

Smiling at the memory of it, Richard turned over in his seat as best he could, and fell asleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Having finally arrived at his hotel at nearly 5am the next morning, London time, Richard all but collapsed into bed for a few hours of kip before he had to present himself at the office of Inspector Darwin of The Serious Organised Crime Agency. Fortunately, knowing what a long flight it was from the Caribbean, and at what unsociable hour he'd be landing, SOCA took pity on him and said he needn't get there before 2pm.

However, around mid-morning, his mobile rang, and it wasn't anyone ringing from Saint Marie (too early there, anyway) or SOCA.

"Hello? Richard Poole here."

"Hello, Richard; Trevor Simons here. How are you keeping?"

"Oh! Hello, Sir. I'm... fine, thank you. Just got in from the Caribbean a few hours ago, and I'm off to speak to an Inspector Darwin of SOCA this afternoon."

"Yes, I know. They're very grateful for your taking the time and trouble to fly out again. I wonder, could you come and see me here at the station whenever you're next free? Say, tomorrow, perhaps?"

"Oh, yes, Sir, of course."

"Splendid. How about we say 11o'clock, unless something unforeseen comes up?"

"Yes, 11:00 is fine, Sir." _Not that I have much choice, I can see._

 "Excellent; see you then, Richard. Bye for now."

"Good-bye, Sir."

 

While he had his mobile still in his hand, Richard decided to send Camille a text.

_Made it here at last, though rather tired (!). Hope all well there. Will e-mail you shortly. Richard._

Less than an hour later his phone beeped for an in-coming text message - it was from Camille. Richard looked at his watched and raised his eyebrows.

_Glad you've arrived safely. Thanks for letting me know. Look forward to your news later. Camille._

Richard smiled and frowned at the same time. Why on earth was she up so early again after the long night before?

_You're up early! Sorry if my text woke you. R._

Back came the reply. _Don't worry, you're worth it. Bye for now. C._

He shook his head. She was irrepressible! So, what was he going to do about it? And, more importantly, what did he _want_ to do about it?

Making himself a cup of tea from the supplies in his room, he sank into the armchair to ponder his future. How long was he likely to stay on Saint Marie? What would - or could - come of his burgeoning relationship with Camille?

And what did his old Superintendent from the Met, Trevor Simons, want? To grill him about Doug Anderson, perhaps? But Anderson had already been transferred out of London well before the arrest on Saint Marie.

He sighed, then drained his cup and went into the bathroom for a good long soak under the shower.

 

"Inspector Poole, so good of you to come back all this way again," greeted Inspector Darwin as he shook Richard's hand.

Richard smiled politely. "That's no trouble, Inspector Darwin - " he started to reply.

"Oh please, it's Bill..."

"Thank you; likewise, it's Richard. Uh... yes, I understand there is some more paperwork or some statements to make regarding Ms Woodward?"

"Yes, damn nuisance, really. She was all set to plead guilty and lead us to some of the Lindman Investments money, and then she gets a new hot-shot lawyer who convinces her to change her plea. She almost certainly hasn't got a hope in hell of beating the charge, but he wants her to fight it - probably wants to make a name for himself. The solicitor was alright; it's the bloody barrister that's the problem."

Richard groaned inwardly. Hanging around in London with nothing to do but await a possible new court hearing was not the most productive use of his time and talents, he felt.

"Does that mean I might have to stick around for a bit longer?" he asked, mentally rolling his eyes.

"Hopefully not. I think you can just go through some stuff with our guys and, if we do go to trial and we need you, we could always call you back again. Sorry about that, but it's probably better than twiddling your thumbs in London while they wait for a date for trial that might or might not actually happen. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time, Richard."

"Yes, to be honest, I have plenty to do back in the Caribbean," he answered, daring to feel hopeful of making a reasonably prompt getaway after all.

 _And someone very special waiting for me as well_ , he thought.

"Okay, well if I introduce you to some of our other agents and lawyers who will be handling the Woodward/Powell case, perhaps you could liaise with them, sort out the paperwork, and be back on the next flight out, all being well. That suit you?"

Richard said it would suit him admirably and, after hand shakes all round, he met the other SOCA agents and 'did the biz' with regard to the affadavits, etc.

 

Back in his hotel room some three hours later, he sent Camille an e-mail as promised, telling her the meeting had gone smoothly and that he was hopeful of getting back to Saint Marie within the next few days. Her reply was one of, he judged, controlled hysteria; she was clearly ecstatic at the prospect of his imminent return, and figured that after three years of playing romantic cat-and-mouse, there was no point in pretending otherwise.

Richard was secretly relieved as well as pleased. He found the whole 'courtship dance' a veritable maze of bafflement and confusion, and was only too pleased at his time of life - and with his limited relationship CV - to have found someone who wouldn't insist on playing the kind of games that he'd never understood in the first place. Mysteries and puzzles he liked, 'dating' games left him frustrated and bewildered (and usually without a date).

 

The next morning saw him at Croydon Police Station, being ushered in to see Superintendent Simons in his big, plush office.

"Richard, good to see you again!" said the latter. "How has life in the sun been treating you?"

"Well, Sir, I think I've finally adapted to it," said Richard with a wry smile. "It was quite a challenge at first - not so much the police work, but the culture shock aspect - but after three years there I think I'm pretty settled now."

"Ah, that's interesting." Simons took a deep breath for his next salvo. "Look, I'll get right down to it. The boys feel bad that they didn't treat you as they should have; Doug Anderson was clearly a very malign influence and, with the benefit of hindsight, everyone miraculously seems to now realise that you were the best copper here all along. Anderson is now known to have been not only a lazy bastard and a crook, but a double murderer, to boot. And _you,_ Richard, are flavour of the month, the local hero, albeit on sabbatical.

"I've also heard glowing reports back from the Commissioner on Saint Marie. He says your work there has been outstanding and that you are their best ever Met officer, which means, I'm afraid, that you were also badly underestimated here, for which I personally offer my regrets and apologies.

"The upshot of all this is that we would like you to come back - not to your old job as was, but to a better position. There's a promotion, and a salary increase that's nothing to sneeze at; good retirement and pension package, too. So, what do you say? How does 'Chief Inspector Poole' sound?"

He was dumbfounded. Blinking hard, he replied, "Sir... I don't know what to say. I - "

"Feel torn, I'm sure," interrupted the Superintendent. "Just remember, Richard, you're still relatively young with a good career ahead of you. Make the most of it, I should," he urged.

Richard gulped and looked down. "May I have some time to think about it, Sir?" he asked. "It's a big decision for me. After three years on Saint Marie, I've... well... carved out a new life for myself there."

Simons smiled sympathetically. "Of course, have a think about it. I know it's not easy to chop and change, but this would be your last move, Richard. I guarantee you that we would not send you anywhere else again, unless you specifically requested it, of course. Take a couple of days and then get back to me, if you will."

Richard was stupefied. Two or three years ago this would have seemed like all his Christmases come early, but now it felt more like a Faustian temptation.

How could he leave Saint Marie now? How could he walk away from the work he was doing there, from the best team he'd ever known... from Dwayne, Fidel, Camille and even the wily old Commissioner? If he did, all of Camille's (formerly) unfounded suspicions would have come true, and she would never forgive the betrayal.

 

More or less staggering out of the station, he managed to get himself back on the underground and into the centre of London again. Lost in (very troubled) thought, he was barely looking where he was going, when he bumped into someone. She was a very attractive young blonde who looked remarkably familiar to him.

"Oh, er.... excuse me," he apologised.

"That's okay," she said somewhat breathlessly. "Oh! I know you - you're Inspector Poole, that nice policeman I met in the Caribbean a couple of years ago. You were so kind to me," she gushed.

Richard looked at her intently. _I know I've seen her before...._ Then the penny dropped.

"Oh yes, you're Mrs...?"

"Talbot. Yes, I'm Megan Talbot. How are you, Inspector? You're obviously back from your post in the Caribbean?" she surmised, with a little gleam in her eye. "Perhaps we could... uh... go for a drink sometime?" she offered.

Richard stared at her. The last two and a half years had done nothing to spoil her good looks. On the contrary, she looked even lovelier than before.

 _Oh God, I'm in real trouble now,_ he thought.....

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

"Good morning, _cherie_ ," said Catherine the following day, as Camille stopped by for a light lunch and a chat. "Have you heard from Richard in London, yet?"

"Oh yes, _Maman_ , he sent me a text when he arrived and an e-mail later. Everything's going fine, apparently, and he expects to be back in a few days, so hopefully not long to wait now," said Camille happily. She was missing Richard already and counting the days (well, the hours, if the truth be told) until he got home.

"That's so good, Camille. I know you've been missing him, but I sense that this year your... um... relationship with him has moved on a bit, _non_?"

Camille couldn't conceal a smile. "I think so, _Maman_ , although nothing's actually happened. I mean, he's not asked me out on a date or anything like that."

"But you would like him to?"

Camille looked down slightly bashfully. "Well... I suppose so. I can't help it, _Maman_ , I have ... - "

"Feelings for him, I know, _cherie_ ," said Catherine, finishing her daughter's sentence for her. "And I'm sure he has feelings for you too, you know. I've seen the way he looks at you sometimes, especially in unguarded moments," she added, wanting to reassure Camille.

"Do you really think so, _Maman_? I try to kind of provoke him into telling me what he feels, but he's so cautious that even when I think I'm getting somewhere with him, it never seems to lead to anything," she replied somewhat wishfully.

"Well, you have to remember that he is an Englishman, and a very reserved one at that. But, I am absolutely certain that he'll be missing you now, particularly since he's on his own in London, without you or the rest of the team. After all, it's fairly obvious that you're the best friends he's ever had. I bet he's bored out of his wits over there, right now as we speak."

 

                                   ----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"It really is so nice to see you again, Inspector. I never imagined we would meet again," enthused Megan Talbot, as she and Richard sat down to a cup of tea in a London tea and coffee shop.

Richard, who was very unsure about the wisdom of such a move, nevertheless gave in to the pleading eyes and winsome smile of this pretty blonde English rose. He hoped Camille would never find out or he'd never hear the end of it, but logically assumed that she was hardly likely to think of it, considering the Lucas Talbot murder case had occurred over two years ago.

And, although apparently rather smitten with Mrs Talbot at the time, Richard later seemed to have gone right off her when he discovered her readiness to get involved in an adulterous affair. Granted, Megan Talbot had been in an abusive marriage, but his somewhat traditional values would have preferred that she simply divorce her rotten husband rather than carry on with another (also married) man behind Mr Talbot's back.

"We-ell, Mrs Talbot - "

"'Megan', please," she insisted.

Richard cleared his throat in slightly awkward fashion. "Uh yes... Megan... um... as I was saying... I'm not so sure this is such a good idea..."

Megan raised her eyebrows and asked, "Why not? It's just a cup of tea, isn't it? And it's not even as if I'm married any more... although if you are... ?"

"No," said Richard quickly, admitting that he wasn't married - or even formally spoken for - either.

"Well, that's alright, then. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for your kindness and consideration back when Lucas was killed. If it hadn't been for you, I'd probably be in jail for murder." Megan looked down with an expression of distressed helplessness.

"I know you probably thought I was a bit of a 'scarlet woman' for having the affair with Patrick [Knight], but... well, when you've been mistreated for so long... any means of escape seems appealing, even if it's not... morally ideal."

Richard sighed; Megan had read him right, and he could see her point of view even though he had been disillusioned with her at the time. He nodded. "Yes, I think I can understand that."

Megan smiled sweetly. "Thank you. Um... is it alright to call you by your first name, Inspector Poole?" Richard was surprised she even remembered his last name.

"Yes, of course. Ahem... it's 'Richard'. How did you remember my name at all, Megan?"

"I never forgot you, Richard," came the simple reply.

Richard gulped. _She really is very pretty and appealing_.

"Uh... Megan... what have you been doing since... well, since that awful time back in Saint Marie when your husband died?"

"Well, thanks to you, I was able to come straight home and re-build my life. I really should have thanked you more properly for not charging me with anything at the time; I mean, I did shoot Lucas even though it was in self-defence and didn't kill him."

"It was because I knew you had shot him while protecting yourself from him, that we didn't charge you. Even if you had actually killed him, I imagine that a good solicitor would have quite easily got the charge reduced to manslaughter, if not dismissed as self-defence."

Megan smiled at him winsomely. "I was very lucky it was you, wasn't I, Richard? I'm not sure another detective would have been so understanding..."

Richard shrugged. "Well, the facts spoke for themselves."

Another winsome smile. "Thank you. Um... when did you get back from the Caribbean?"

"Only a couple of days ago, as a matter of fact. I'm here - "

"Oh my goodness!" interrupted Megan. "How amazing that we should bump into each other almost the minute you return! Tell me, are you looking for a place to live now? I mean, if you gave up your UK home when you moved to Saint Marie, you must be looking around now? Do you need a place to stay?" All Megan's questions came out in a rush of enthusiasm.

Richard hesitated. "No, uh... actually, I - "

"Why don't you stay with me? I'm living here in London and, with the compensation my lawyer got for me from Patrick and Astrid for... ahem... killing Lucas (or at least covering it up, as in Astrid's case), I was able to buy a very nice little -"

"No really, Megan, that's very generous of you, but I'm staying in a hotel here in Central London. I'm only here for a few days or, at worst, a few weeks, but even the latter is unlikely. I'll be going back shortly."

"Oh, I see." Megan looked sad and deflated. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed you were back for good."

Seeing her look so despondent, Richard suddenly felt rather guilty about his slight brusqueness. "I'm sorry, I should have made that clearer from the beginning. Look... um... why don't we have dinner and we can catch up some more, if you like? As it happens, there are one or two things I wouldn't mind discussing with someone. If I tell my parents, they'll just get all excited and I won't get an impartial opinion at all."

How on earth Richard imagined he would get an unbiased view from Megan Talbot - who was already setting her sights on him again - about the new possibilities that were on offer, goodness only knew, but obviously _he_ didn't.

Megan was ecstatic. "Oh, that would be absolutely lovely, Richard!" she gushed. "Tonight?"

"Yes, I was thinking of tonight. Shall I meet you in the lobby of my hotel, and we can take it from there?" he suggested.

"Oh, that would be wonderful. Would 8 o'clock be alright?"

"Uh... yes, fine. It's the... [well-known hotel]. Do you know it?"

"Yes, of course. I'll be there."

 

Richard began to pace up and down his hotel room, not that there was a huge amount of floor space in which to do so, but he did his best. He was restless and unsure about a number of issues. The offer from Supt Simons was very tempting, as was, he had to admit, the prospect of seeing the pretty Megan Talbot again; and now it was on a social basis. He wouldn't have to agonise over whether or not to arrest or charge his attractive suspect this time.

The temptations were beginning to mount up: a promotion to the rank of Chief Inspector, together with a salary increase and greater benefits all round; the opportunity to - finally - escape the heat and bugs of Saint Marie, and come back 'home' to a more familiar climate and culture; and now, the apparent possibility of a romance with a woman he had secretly fancied some two years ago, in spite of his protestations and denials back then.

And yet... he also had to acknowledge that after three years on Saint Marie, he had really begun to acclimatise and settle in, despite the heat and sand and insects. (He'd even made friends with a reptile, for goodness' sake!) The team he worked with in Honore was the best team he'd ever had, and they treated him with a degree of respect and kindness hitherto unknown to him. Trevor Simons could make all the promises he liked, but that didn't erase the years of mockery and bullying Richard had received at the hands of his former Met colleagues.

Then there was Camille. What on earth would his life have been like without her? Of course he hadn't wanted to be in the Caribbean or to work with her at first, but now she was the main reason why life there had turned out so well for him. Yes, it was because of Camille that he had wanted to stay on Saint Marie after all, and why he had told Supt Simons that he felt settled there now.

So, why was he still intrigued by Megan Talbot? Surely it wasn't simply because he was away from Camille and missing female company? He had been managing without it for years anyway, and he wasn't the flighty or fickle type, either.

_Crikey, what's wrong with me? Why this tug of war in my head?_

He sighed heavily and made his way down the lift in readiness to meet Megan in the hotel foyer as planned.

 

"So, I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a crossroads, Megan. There's this apparently great career offer, this promotion, and the chance to come back to England - something I'd been longing for ever since I arrived in the Caribbean three years ago - but now I'm just not sure. It isn't straightforward any more."

Megan fluttered her eyelashes. "Is that because after three years you are uneasy about making a big change again? I'd have thought it was basically a matter of coming home, not so much of having to try out pastures new?" she suggested.

"Well... it's a bit more complex than that. In spite of the initial culture shock, I think I've actually started to get really used to life there. I'm happy in my work, and I have a brilliant team, the best I've ever had, to tell you the truth. What I hated when I first went out there was the heat. Well, that and the sand. And the insects."

Megan giggled. "Oh yes, I can imagine. I didn't enjoy it much myself when we were there, but I suppose that was more to do with what was going on in our lives than with the actual place. I mean, the Caribbean is very beautiful, I know. Unfortunately, it holds horrible memories for me."

Richard nodded in understanding. "I'm sure. Tell me, though, if you don't mind my saying, I'm surprised you're still... um... well, unattached. It's been over two years since you were... left alone, after all."

"I did meet someone a few months afterwards, but it didn't work out. I have to confess, Richard, that I'm at a bit of a crossroads, too. Lucas was frequently abusive towards me, but at least when I was with him, life had a pattern to it. Now, I feel like I'm in a sort of limbo, half the time. I've got a part-time job as a secretary, but that's all. Lucas' murder changed everything, and I haven't stayed in touch with most of our old friends, either."

She was gazing very intently at him, making it clear that she hoped he would decide to take the job promotion and settle back to life in London. And even Richard couldn't fail to notice that, if he so desired, she could be an integral part of the package, too.

That night he slept fitfully and had a bad dream, one of whose main features seemed to be a large black widow spider coming towards him. She was circling him, singing:

_"Will you walk into my parlour.....?"_

Awaking with a shudder, he switched on the light by his bed and looked at the clock: 2am in London, so 9pm on Saint Marie. He debated with himself for a few moments, then picked up his mobile and dialled.

"Hello, Camille? It's me, Richard. I'm coming home."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have re-written this chapter as I was not happy with my last effort. Apologies if you read that one and wonder what's going on - but hopefully this will be a better Chapter 4.

 

"I hear the Chief's coming back soon," said Dwayne the next morning. "Is that right, Camille?"

Camille couldn't conceal the happy anticipation in her expression. "Yes, he is Dwayne. He rang last... um yesterday, to say he was coming home soon. I think it will be today or tomorrow."

Dwayne and Fidel exchanged glances. They had missed neither the obvious look of pleasure at Richard's imminent return on Camille's face, nor her slip up about his phoning her last night. Clearly the two were closer than they wanted people (or perhaps even themselves) to know.

"Did he say how he got on in London?" asked Fidel.

"No, he said he'd fill us in when he got back. I must say he sounded a bit stressed; maybe he won't think being on Saint Marie is so bad after all," she answered.

"Yeah," agreed Dwayne. "Three years away from a place can change your perspective on it, can't it? When he first got here all he could think about was how soon he could leave, but maybe now it's different. You must have seen the change in him yourself, Camille. He doesn't rant and complain so much any more, does he?"

"No, that's true," she conceded. "Some days he even seems quite pleased to be here..." she mused.

The boys exchanged looks again. _Camille's in love with the Chief. I wonder if she knows it? I wonder if_ he _knows it?_

 

At lunchtime, Camille found another text from Richard.

_Hi, Camille. I'm getting a flight out asap. Should be back by Friday evening, your time. Richard._

She frowned. _That's tonight,_ she thought. She wondered how he could send a text when he was supposedly over the ocean, when she realised that he'd actually sent the message much earlier and it had got delayed in cyberspace.

Suddenly, she felt a wave of excitement and nervousness. Should she or the rest of the team be doing anything to mark the occasion like they had done the year before? She was pretty sure he wouldn't be quite so grumpy this time round since both their relationship - and his with the lads - had moved on apace and was a lot closer and more like true friendship than mere professional cordiality.

As if having read her thoughts, when she got back to the station, Fidel asked, "Should we throw some sort of welcoming party for the Chief again?"

"Hell, yes," said Dwayne, never one to turn down the prospect of a party, no matter how small.

Camille was in a bit of a quandary. On one hand, when Richard had rung her fairly late the other evening to say he was 'coming home', he'd sounded relieved and decisive, as if it was the one thing he'd wanted to do more than anything else at that time. On the other, she reckoned that it could have been because he'd had a difficult time in London, and therefore might not feel in sufficiently relaxed mood to face a homecoming celebration, however modest.

Still, on the balance of probabilities, she calculated that Richard genuinely wanted to 'come home' and on that basis, she was blooming well going to celebrate it.

"Let's do it," she said, finally being decisive. "I'll ask _Maman_ to get out the lights and party streamers, and the banner too. We'll show him how glad we are to have him back."

 

"Welcome back, Chief!" they all cried in unison as, befitting of deja vu, Richard once more turned up to La Kaz with the Commissioner, as he had the previous year. Since it was on official business, sanctioned by Patterson as well as SOCA, it was appropriate that the Commissioner's car be again despatched to collect Richard from the airport.

Unlike last year, however, there was no rant, no lost luggage, and no exasperated Inspector. This time, it was smiles of relief and gratitude, for Richard Poole was never more pleased to be on Saint Marie than now. After politely sharing a quick round of beer with the team, all he really wanted was to be driven back to his beach house - by Camille. He got his wish and, barely an hour after appearing in the doorway of La Kaz, he was off out again, bound for his little house by the sea.

 

"Let me make you a cup of tea while you unpack?" offered Camille.

"Mm, thanks," Richard replied.

"You must be shattered," she said sympathetically. "Thanks for keeping me posted when you were in London, by the way."

"Oh, that's okay," he smiled. "Actually, I'm more shattered mentally than physically. A lot more went on there than I had expected when I left, Camille."

"Oh? Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Yes, please, although I don't want you to get upset."

Camille frowned. _Oh my God, it's bad news. I knew it - he's going to be leaving us. Leaving me._

Seeing her worried look, he said quickly, "No, it's probably not what you think. Let's sit down and I'll tell you all about it - if you're still interested."

"I told you, Richard, I'm always interested - because I care."

"Or because you're nosy?" he teased.

She smiled at the memory of the banter they'd exchanged the night before he'd departed. "That, too. Seriously though; what happened in London?"

Richard took a deep breath. He had every intention of telling her about his old Superintendent's promotion offer and of his turning it down, but he wasn't sure whether it was wise to mention Megan Talbot.

 _Well, let's just see how it goes,_ he said to himself.

"As you know, when I left for London, I expected to speak to Inspector Darwin of SOCA about the Vicky Woodward case. Well, I did do that, and we sorted out some paperwork, and I thought that was it; I'd be on the next plane out. But I'd also got a call from my old top boss at the Met, a Supt Simons, and he asked me to stay on and accept a promotion to Chief Inspector, with all the perks, etc."

Richard waited to see Camille's reaction to this before deciding on whether it would be wise - or safe - to introduce Megan into the conversation.

"Are you going to take it, Richard?" She was looking at him very directly and it was obvious that he would never be able to dissemble, or to bluff, with this remarkable woman. She was too observant and intuitive, and she knew him too well by now. Luckily, he was able to give her a very straightforward, honest answer.

"No, I turned it down."

Her eyes lit up, and then misted up slightly. "Really?! You turned down the chance of not only going back to England, but even promotion and more benefits?" She was incredulous as well as delighted. "Wasn't it tempting, though?"

"Yes," came the honest reply. "But it would have meant being away from... everyone I hold dear, here on Saint Marie."

"The team?"

"Yes, and one member of the team in particular, Camille." He was looking straight at her and her heart was doing flip-flops.

"Oh Richard, I'm so glad. I really did fear that you might want to stay once you got there. Did you see your parents?"

"No, but I spoke to them on the phone. I considered it best not to mention the promotion thing, though, or Mum would have gone nuts and begged me to take it. It's not that I want to be thousands of miles away from them, it's just that my life is here now."

Camille was fighting back tears of relief and happiness. She figured there was no point in beating about the bush any longer, so she decided to take a chance on a direct question.

"Do you have any feelings for me, Richard?" she asked softly.

His heart began to beat faster and harder. "Yes, Camille. That's the main reason why I came back."

She let out a gasp. "Thank you. I... have... feelings for you, too. But I guess that was pretty obvious from the way I behaved the night before you left."

He chuckled. "Just a little. But in case you hadn't noticed, I didn't exactly object, did I?"

"You didn't answer all my questions though, did you?"

"How could I? They were getting a little.. ahem... personal."

"What about now? Would I be able to ask you anything now without your being evasive - or annoyed?"

Richard took another deep breath. "Yes, Camille, and... if we're going to get... um... closer to one another..." he began to redden noticeably at this point. "What I mean is, I don't want us to have secrets from each other."

"Neither do I," Camille concurred.

"So... there's something I haven't told you yet about my London trip. I... uh... bumped into someone there, completely out of the blue..."

This definitely sparked her curiosity. "Who?"

"Do you remember Megan Talbot?"

Richard wondered whether it was enough to wince, or whether he should consider ducking.

Fortunately for him, wincing seemed to suffice. "You met Megan Talbot?" The tone in Camille's voice had taken on an unconsciously frosty sound.

"Yes; I literally bumped into her on the street when I was lost in thought about the job offer. She... uh... suggested we go for a drink."

Camille's expression said it all. _Bloody woman; of all the nerve!_

"And did you go?"

"We went for a cup of tea in a café."

"Oh..kay." _That doesn't sound too bad._

"But then we went out to dinner later that evening.... come on, Camille... please let me finish..."

Camille's eyes were flashing with jealousy and anger at the gall of the woman. Wasn't it bad enough that she had practically thrown herself at Richard when she had just shot her husband two and a half years ago?!

"So, was she trying to _entice_ you again?" Camille spoke the word 'entice' as if it were an obscenity.

"Um... yeah... you could say that," Richard admitted.

"And did she succeed?" demanded Camille.

"No! Absolutely not, Camille. In fact, I had a nightmare that very night about her being a spider trying to lure me into her web. That's when I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the only place I ever want to be from now on is with you."

Relief flooded her. "Can I ask you another question, Richard?"

Richard looked at her with amusement and replied simply, "Of course."

"Can I stay here again tonight - or do you want me to go home and leave you in peace?"

He sighed and smiled at her affectionately. "You can definitely stay here tonight, and any and every night you wish. In fact, I'm rather hoping you won't leave me in too much 'peace', in spite of my being a bit travel weary. I reckon you're the tonic I need to revive me."

"Does that mean we're really together, Richard?"

"I hope so, Camille. I really hope so."

"So do I, Richard."

"Let's get some rest, then. Or not. Together."

 

As she lay sleeping in his arms later that night, Richard reflected on the extraordinary chain of events that he had experienced in just a few short days. He thought also about the narrow escape he'd had from the twin temptations of going back to the Met - albeit at a higher rank and with a larger salary - and of getting involved with the lovely, but totally unsuitable, Megan Talbot; poisoned chalices, both, in that they would take him away from his true home.

He had finally learned that the old cliché about home being where the heart is, was as true for a pedantic Englishman abroad as for anyone else. His heart was with Camille more than anyone else on earth, but also with the other members of his wonderful team, and even with the fiery Catherine and the wily old Commissioner Patterson. He smiled at the irony of the latter's actually doing him a favour by tricking him into staying in Paradise.

Yes, staying on Saint Marie was the best thing that had ever happened to Richard Poole because it was, as he now realised, his true destiny. And Camille was an inseparable part of that destiny.

 


End file.
